In the Key of F
by SLimac
Summary: Emma Swan's been working hard to move on from a past of abandonment and self-hate as she rises to take over as principle pianist of the Boston Ballet. By her side are the Jones Brothers, trying to move past a lifetime of abuse. When ghosts from the past resurface and fears of the future take hold, will they be strong enough to stay together? Four years post In the Key of G.
1. Our House- Crosby Stills and Nash

_A/N:_ I'm baaaacccckkkk. Inset Jack Nicholson creepy face. Anyways, I'm back, but with a different story. That doesn't mean DWD is dead, just that with the angst in the fandom lately, and what is going to happen, I needed something that wasn't quite so draining. Doesn't mean that this won't be angsty, but it will be more like my usual writing than the monster that is DWD. If you check out my Tumblr, slimacwrites, you can see the image I did of this story. I'm very excited to get back into these characters that I so fell in love with when writing In the Key of G. Hopefully I'll soon be able to figure out a regular posting schedule because I do vaguely have the story mapped out.

Warning: Contains mentions of abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to Adam and Eddie and ABC.

Emma pushed open the big white door and was greeted by a screeching fire alarm and the smell of something that may at one point have been an apple pie. Whereas most people would run from a house in which every fire alarm was going off and there was a distinct smogginess to the air, Emma just rolled her eyes and let the door swing open wide. This was the Jones Brother's house. If a fire alarm wasn't going off at supper time no one was home.

There was shouting coming from the kitchen so Emma kicked off her boots and padded across the old hardwood floor to the epicentre of the burning located at the end of the entryway hallway. She grabbed a newspaper that sat on the hallway highboy as she passed by, picking her way around Lee's sneakers that were left in the middle of the kitchen doorway.

Liam and Killian stood in the middle of the airy kitchen, yelling over the alarm. Liam waved his arms at the offending machine on the ceiling while Killian was scowling at it and telling Liam to just "pull down the bloody machine already." Lee was no where to be seen but it was probably an apple pie he'd made that the older brother had overcooked. _Boys._

Without saying anything Emma shoved the rolled-up newspaper at Liam's chest so he'd stop flapping around like some sort of rabid bird and do something useful, then made her way through the kitchen and living room, throwing open the windows as she went. After a few more beeps the house went silent. Apart from Killian's grumbled curses about the condition of dessert.

"Maybe you should finally learn to set that timer?" Emma asked with a smirk as she entered the kitchen again.

"And deprive you of saving us?" Liam asked with a laugh as he set down the paper. "Never." Liam glanced over at the pie on the oven with an upturn of his nose. "Lee's going to be angry we burnt his pie."

"Lee's used to it by now," Killian answered with a sigh, a hint of sadness clawing at the underbelly of his words that implied thoughts of more than burnt pastry. Emma knew that Killian still battled with the quality of Lee's life. He harboured a lot of guilt over it, both for the care he'd provided and for how relieved he was now that he could just be Killian and not a guardian. Lee was very small for his age, a side effect, the doctors said, from all the trauma and lack of food he had often faced. Killian had recovered better-physically- but Emma knew much of the emotional still existed and often came out as self-depreciation concerning Lee. Emma wasn't really sure how to make it better other than to give him time.

Emma moved over to the pie that was sitting on top of the oven. The top part of the crust was completely singed. Like, full on charcoal. They must have left it in at least a half hour longer than Lee had told them too. But the underside looked okay when Emma tipped up the glass pie plate. It might be salvageable- not to the same condition as before but really, what stayed the same after that kind of traumatic experience? She leaned back and pulled open a nearby drawer, grabbing a knife.

"A little surgery and it will be fine." Emma stuck the tip of the knife into the top crust and started to carve, pulling up the burnt bits as they flaked off. After Emma had finished the pie was ugly but it probably couldn't be used to draw cave paintings any longer. "There. Slap some whip cream on it and it will be fine."

Killian came over to examine it. "You're a lifesaver, love," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. Despite his lighter tone Emma could still feel the tension and disappointment behind his words. Emma leaned back against him, the rough fabric of his work clothes rubbing against her bare arms. He must have been at work late since he was usually home and changed before Emma ever made it out of the studio. The dock tended to close up shop around early evening and Emma, well, she didn't end work until her fingers cramped.

Emma reached down and grabbed for his hand, fingers closing around his prosthetic first but that didn't matter. She held on and dragged him out of the kitchen, back into the hallway and then turned right to go up the wide set of stairs that led to the upper level. Killian followed without complaint, feet quietly swishing on the worn carpet runner.

The house the Jones Brothers occupied was an older white wooden sided, three-bedroom house. It was in the Dorchester neighbourhood of Boston, as close to the water as Liam could afford, but unfortunately about a thirty-minute bus ride from Emma's apartment in the South End which was closer to the Ballet Company. The house had been pretty crappy when the brothers had first moved in but while Liam was terrible at paying attention to the oven, he was pretty handy with other things and in the four years since moving in, it had become a new house. While a lot of the older features still existed, like the slightly warped hardwood flooring and butcher block countertops, the electrical and a good chunk of the drywall had been replaced and with it about three tons of vintage floral wallpaper.

Emma continued to lead Killian into his bedroom, the furthest room from the stairs landing but next to Lee's. It was the first time Killian had had a room to himself permanently since Liam was born. Occasionally he'd have one in whatever apartment his father found to rent but that would often change after the man was caught drinking at work and fired. Especially after the abuse started and Killian took over as guardian, Lee almost never slept in a different room from Killian. It was both for safety and for comfort. Getting Lee used to staying in his own room and not sneaking into Killian's, especially when Emma was also curled under the sheets, had been a challenge. And had definitely ruled out sleeping in any state other than fully clothed. It was an issue they'd mostly conquered at that point so long as Lee didn't have nightmares.

Killian flicked on the bedroom light when Emma finally let go of his hand. The light sputtered a bit, needing to be replaced soon, before illuminating the room. Medium blue walls were hung with pictures, a compensation, Emma knew, from missing a proper family and happy memories for so long. In a set of attached picture frames were pictures Killian had pilfered from Liam's own collection, the images ones of a child Killian with his grinning older brother. The rest of the walls had prints of Killian and Lee at a playground right after Liam had found them, the three brothers on a boat, a few candid shots of his brothers and a spattering of ones that Emma herself was also in. Emma's personal favourite was the one from the opening night of Swan Lake where the three brothers had showed up, all dressed up and carrying flowers as if she were the prima ballerina and not the pianist. It sat on the bedside table next to the double bed.

Emma flopped down on the big bed, the navy duvet practically absorbing her in it's fluff. From her position on the mattress she watched Killian move around the room, first picking up dirty clothing he'd dropped on the floor that morning and then pulling off his own shirt and throwing it all into the laundry basket. The thick straps that went up his arm and over his shoulders from the body-powered prosthesis did nothing to detract from the sight that was a shirtless Killian Jones. It never failed to make Emma feel heat shoot through her, though that quickly turned to pride as she watched him effortlessly slip off the prosthesis. It hadn't always been that way.

 _"Why the bloody fuck do I need this?" Killian exploded as soon as they got into his bedroom and away from his brothers, yanking at the straps of the prosthetic. Emma didn't flinch, having seen the frustration in his eyes after picking him up from his first physiotherapy appointment. She'd been expecting it._

 _"You don't," Emma answered, trying to hold in her own anger because it wasn't directed at Killian. It felt like a betrayal for Liam to push the prosthetic on his brother. Killian had been one handed for over a decade and was used to it. Why couldn't his brother be the same? But Liam had that hero-complex, the one where everything needed to be perfect or no one would be happy. It was easy to tell Liam carried guilt about Killian's amputation because he hadn't been there. But that wasn't an excuse to try to make his brother whole with moveable metal hooks and plastic stump casings._

 _"Liam says it will make life easier. How? I look like Captain Hook now." Emma snorted at that before she could stop herself, earning a glare from Killian._

 _"Least you don't have a perm," Emma answered._

 _"Has anyone told you how funny you are?"_

 _"Yeah, it's why I'm a pianist," Emma replied, softer this time. She took a few steps closer to Killian as he tugged at his prosthetic, trying to get it off without any success. Emma raised her brow and Killian nodded with a weary sigh, letting Emma pull the straps over his head and slide the contraption off. She set it on the desk and then pulled off the protective sock covering the stump._

 _"Killian," Emma murmured, rubbing her hands over the sensitive end of his stump, marvelling slightly at how comfortable he'd become with her near the injury in the year they'd been together. "If you don't want the prosthesis, tell your brother. He needs to see you as whole without the hand. Lee does. I do. And Liam will too when the guilt wears off."_

 _Killian nodded, leaning his head down to rest on Emma's shoulder as she continued to massage his stump like Google had taught her. "Maybe I'll give it a week."_

Somewhere along the way, that week had turned into three years and Killian and Liam had come to an understanding about the prosthesis. Killian wore the moveable hook when he was at work because it was better for efficiency and safety but at home it would be left in his room pretty much always. He was just as capable with one hand and eventually Liam had realized that.

Killian continued to get changed, pulling on a worn white t-shirt and a pair of clean jeans, free of oil stains from whatever engine he'd been tinkering at that day. When he was no longer covered in pier dirt he moved over to the bed and laid down beside Emma. The tenseness in his body from downstairs was still there, keeping him stiff beside her. It was the kind of stiffness he had when he felt guilty about something.

"You okay?" Emma asked, snaking her hand down the side of his body to find his fingers. She just brushed them, not taking hold, not wanting to push her luck. Killian didn't answer, just huffed out a long breath. Killian not answering her said more than a no ever could. "Why are you feeling guilty about that pie?"

"I should have been home to get it out. We both know Liam can't cook."

Emma scrunched her forehead, confused. "You were at work late."

Killian shook his head against the pillow, jostling the bed slightly. "I got off on time. But I stayed around to talk to Arthur," Killian said, referring to his slightly annoying _mate_ who worked at the pier with him. "We were chatting football- the proper kind. And then he wanted to plan for us all to go out together. I got distracted and when I got home the whole pie was charred."

Emma got it then. Killian was upset with himself because he'd taken the time to hang out with a friend and because of that Lee's pie had burnt. Even something that seemed so small, like a pie, to Killian was a sign of how much he'd failed his entire life. It was the reason they didn't go on many date nights, the closest they got often being the nights he spent at Emma's place because he wanted to see her and she had been working well into the night. Emma couldn't find it in herself to be upset because Killian had stood by her through so much. Killian battled with taking anything for himself, be it time away from his brother, especially if Lee was home alone, using funds to take classes to become a marine engineer that Lee might need to play sports (not that he did but Killian worried about everything), or choosing time with Emma at the studio over being at the house to clean it.

On the other hand, Emma knew how much Killian craved the freedom, being an adult with his own life and friends. Even four years later, Killian was still exhausted from the caregiving that had stolen his childhood and many years after. When he let himself indulge he was brilliantly happy, going to the pub with Arthur or dancing with Emma. On the nights when Lee was at a sleepover and Killian was free to do as he pleased, he always slept better. He didn't wake up at the slightest sound and often Emma would get up before him, a complete rarity usually, and leave him in bed while she went to work.

Liam worried about the anxiety Killian still struggled with. Emma did too, but where Liam wanted action, wanted Killian to go to therapy or a support group, Emma just thought he needed time. It wasn't that Emma didn't want Killian to go to therapy but she was scared he would see it as one more thing Liam was trying to make perfect in Killian's life to make up for the shit he'd gone through. She didn't want a prosthesis-type fiasco to happen again. It would take years to heal the kind of hurt Killian had gone through, if Emma's own issues were any gauge. But she could see an improvement from the first month of living in Boston. Killian was getting there.

"Killian," Emma told him firmly, rolling onto her stomach so she could look him in the eye. "Lee is happy. The kid loves his life with you two. You're like his heroes. It's okay for you to do things that make you happy too. Spending some time talking to Arthur won't ruin Lee's life." They'd had this conversation before but it seemed like Killian needed reminding.

"I know," Killian replied slowly. "Objectively I know, love."

"But subjectively that doesn't matter." Killian nodded again, finally moving his stiff body to grasp her hand tightly. Emma smiled at that. Progress. "How about this," she started, Killian watching her carefully. "This weekend we're going out with Arthur. No excuses. We're going to have fun. You and I are going to drink a bit too much and dance like we never do. We're going to act like we're twenty-two for once. I'll talk to Liam and convince him to stay home Saturday night to watch Lee."

Killian sighed but this wasn't a guilty one. This was a slightly exasperated, good-natured one. "Alright, love. I know better than to argue with you. Especially when you're freely suggesting we go out with Arthur."

Emma grinned at that. _Progress._


	2. Shut Up and Dance- Walk the Moon

_A/N:_ Here's chapter two. This was a fun chapter to write. Remember, this is Emma being happy. It won't always be this way, but I hope this chapter shows just how much she's grown since In the Key of G. The song came from a commenter on here (I'm sorry, I don't remember who), who suggested this song back in In the Key of G and this scene immediately popped into my head and has been demanding to be written for the past year. Enjoy and thank you so much for the support already.

Warning: contains mentions of abuse.

Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.

Emma flopped back on the sofa in the Jones Brother's house. Killian was working the afternoon shift at the pier so would arrive around eight to meet her for the club. Emma had no idea why she'd pressed the club so much because it wasn't her scene at all, and she was starting to regret it. There were too many people she didn't know. Too many bodies brushing against hers. While she was okay with physical contact now, it still got overwhelming when it was coming from strangers. Killian would like the night out though and she was doing it for him. Killian had that swagger that fit in a club and attracted every woman around him when he let himself have that freedom. Plus, Arthur liked it and Killian needed a night out with his good friend.

Emma had already gotten dressed for the club, stopping by her apartment after the studio to pull on a tight black leather dress, a gift from Ruby, and a pair of black pumps. She had a makeup bag in Killian's bedroom so she did her makeup once she arrived. Once she'd put on more mascara and liner than she pretty much ever usually did, she moved down to the couch to wait for Killian.

Lee puttered around the kitchen when she got down there, putting some sort of casserole in the oven. The now-teen still loved cooking and used the recipes Granny had taught him all those years ago. Emma loved the homey recipes he used. It kept the homesickness away and reminded her that she wouldn't ever leave Granny behind.

"Hey Em," he called when she flopped onto the couch.

"Hey, how was your day?"

Emma loved Lee. To her he was still that precious boy who'd shown up at the Diner and somehow wormed his way into her guarded heart almost immediately. The resemblance to the little boy was still strong, Lee small for his age and still infused with that eager to please attitude that many saw as excitability or immaturity, but Emma knew to be the result of being desperate to avoid punishment. That still broke her heart. But Lee wouldn't stand for her to dwell on that for very long. Not when he was trying to be _normal._ Not when they all were.

Lee was trying to integrate and was doing a far better job than his older brother. Lee had friends, and had days where he was blissfully happy. There were also days when everything was being pulled apart and Lee was too terrified of his father returning that he couldn't leave the house. But they were fewer than the days where he went to the park after school to play soccer, laughed in the kitchen as Liam made a fool as he helped him make a cake. There was a lot of his brothers in Lee, but thankfully only the good parts and none of the brood-y parts. The stubborn loyalty, the determination, the soft smile that warmed anyone around but was like a rare treasure to find.

"Meh. Can't wait for these classes to be over."

"Two months," Emma answered with a snort.

"June can't come soon enough. Science sucks."

Emma propped herself up on her elbows. "Cooking is science," she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Liam returned the gesture with a roll of his eyes, a motion so like her that Emma was hit with the realization of just how much time they'd spent together as the boys created this new life for themselves, picking up and including bits of her along the way.

"But I can't eat my science homework," Liam answered as he poured a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water.

"Just one of the perks of being a dog, I suppose."

"You're ridiculous," Liam laughed, plopping himself down onto the couch- and Emma- and forcing her to pull up her legs or have them fall asleep under the lanky teenager. "You look nice though," he added, blushing a bit.

"And you're too sweet." Lee shook his head, turning at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The eldest Jones brother appeared, pausing at the door to the shared living room and kitchen space, surveying who was present.

"What bet did you lose to have to go clubbing with Arthur?" he asked, taking a seat in the arm chair next to the couch, the springs creaking as he did so. Almost all the furniture was old, found at rummage sales or second hand stores, but it was comfortable. So long as one didn't focus on the sometimes weird stains colouring the upholstery before it got redone by the boys with a staple gun and lots of swearing.

"Government told me if I did, they'd take away Arthur's work visa," Emma replied, earning snorts from both brothers and a shove to her calf from Lee. She returned it with a little jab to the side with the end of her four inch heel.

Arthur drove her up the wall. The man flirted with anything that moved, including her, despite knowing she was very much taken and had been for the past four years. There was also this obsessive quality to everything he did that never failed to unnerve her. When she wasn't busy snarking back at him. But Killian liked him. Something to do with being British or something (which, in Emma's opinion, was faulty logic because the man had been in America for longer than he'd been in England, said chips instead of crisps and rarely argued the difference between soccer and football). Now Arthur was British, on a work visa to help set up an engineering project for the Harbour Patrol and just hadn't left after the project ended. Emma couldn't figure out if the city kept finding new projects for Arthur, or if Arthur just declared himself King of the Harbour and everyone was too weirded out to disagree. It was how Killian had met him after getting a job as a labourer in Liam's team. It was a perk of being the brother of the Harbour Master but Killian didn't like to be reminded of that. Arthur didn't remind him of that (again, probably because on some level Arthur thought he was the harbourmaster).

But if Arthur made Killian happy, Emma would put up with him.

And it's not like she had potential in-laws in her life she hated that she had to put up with. Someone needed to fill the void.

Emma was officially in an adult relationship.

The front door swung open, boisterous laughter booming through and making Lee jump and pull his legs up onto the sofa. Emma and Liam both pretended not to notice. _Normal_ and all. Arthur was first up the hall, a much quieter Killian following. Killian knew better than to scare Lee. Arthur just knew how to be Arthur.

"Evening, Joneses. And Swan. Break any piano strings today?"

"Evening, Pendragon," Emma drawled back, pushing herself upright. "No, but I suppose you'll tell me you broke some hearts?"

"Always, love. But sadly never yours." Arthur knew he was attractive, all dark hair and dark stubble, a few years older than Emma or Killian, and riding that tall, dark and mysterious stranger garbage. Arthur also knew Emma only had eyes for her own dark haired man, no matter how shamelessly he flirted with her.

Killian rolled his eyes, moving to Emma and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to go get changed. Try not to do him in before we even make it to the club."

"You're lucky I love you," Emma answered.

"Don't I know it," Killian answered, more serious than Emma had expected. Emma chewed on her lip, watching Killian leave the living room. Killian could turn on a dime, one moment happy in the moment, the next reminded of his life before. Emma couldn't always predict it either, nor could she always understand why his mind went back to the past at certain moments. This one she understood though. Killian credited Emma with bringing the light back into his life. To Killian, it was Emma who gave him a purpose that was more than serving as a punching bag to save Liam, who held him together at the very worst moments, who found his brother. Even if that wasn't strictly true, Killian still believed it.

And Emma credited Killian as being all that for her, standing by her side, helping her rise from the depths of self-harm and self-hatred, returning her to music. Killian always argued that it wasn't his doing, but rather Emma deciding to be strong. They agreed to disagree on that subject.

"Moody chap, isn't he?" Arthur mused, though not unkindly, staring up the empty hallway as Killian climbed the stairs. Arthur had somewhere along the line figured out the gist of what the Jones family had been through. Emma was almost certain Killian hadn't said anything to him, but Killian was covered in scars, and had no parents in the picture. It really wasn't that hard to deduce.

"Killian just needs a good night out," Liam answered, exchanging a glance with Emma. Emma nodded, confirmation that she understood. Tonight was to be about Killian. About giving him twelve hours of bliss outside of his role in the Jones family, before he had to return to it the next morning. Or thought he had to.

Eventually Emma would convince Killian that they were all okay now. That it was okay to make his own life. Eventually.

"Is Belle coming over tonight?" Lee asked, shifting so his legs were no longer against his chest, finally coming out of the panic they were all so studiously ignoring.

Belle was Liam's girlfriend. Emma had actually been the one to introduce them a year prior. Belle was a quiet, studious woman but with an adventurous glint in her eyes, dainty and beautiful. She had been a ballerina in the corps for the Nutcracker, put in the practice group Emma played for. Belle had been new, the transfer from the Sydney Ballet after she had got in some relationship issues with an ex-husband. No one really knew more than that, except for maybe Liam at this point, but Emma didn't feel like it was her place to ask. Liam had come to pick Emma up after a practice one day near Christmas as the buses weren't running, and had noticed Belle finishing her stretches alone, all the others gone to a Christmas party that the new girl hadn't been invited to. Following that had been a few weeks of scheming with the other Jones, and one spectacularly awkward kiss at Midnight at a party for the Boston Ballet. It had taken a while to convince each of them to be open to a relationship, Liam to see that his brothers actually wanted him to be happy and include someone else in their tight circle, and for Belle to realize that Liam wasn't her ex.

"Yeah," Liam answered with a small smile, ears reddening. Liam had been without a partner for so long that it was adorable. The man was awkward but loyal to a fault, and it was sweet to see him get flustered over how much he loved Belle. "Is there enough pasta for her too? She said she was bringing you a new cookbook she found at the library."

Lee grinned. That was the main reason Lee loved when Belle came over. When Belle wasn't at the ballet, she was at the library, and was always producing new cookbooks for Lee during her searches of the stacks. Well, that and she made Liam happy, but Lee was rather guided by his stomach at this age.

Killian's combat boots clacked down the stairs as he appeared again, dressed in tight black jeans, a black button up, leather jacket slung over his handless arm, prosthesis gone. Killian wasn't totally comfortable out in public without his hand, but he was getting better and the club would be dark. Killian hadn't shaved in a few days, stubble coating his chin, and his dark hair had been mussed with a bit of styling paste. The years since he was a poor teenager, concerned only with his brother, had done wonders for his looks, but to Emma he was still as beautiful now as he had been then.

Emma stood, reaching out for his hand. Killian took hers and pulled her closer. "I'm going to have to be beating the club goers away," Emma whispered into his ear, red painted lips brushing his earlobe. Killian made a low growl in the back of his throat.

"Maybe I should wear my hook for those that come after you?" he answered, fingering the short hem of her black leather dress.

"Get a room," Lee hollered, pretending to gag.

"We plan to," Emma answered with a grin, not taking her eyes off her boyfriend. "Hence why we're staying at my place tonight." Killian raised an intrigued eyebrow at that but before Killian could reply, Emma turned to Arthur. "And you're _not_ invited," she quipped, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The brothers snorted at her response before a car horn honked outside.

"That would be the cab I called for. Come on, you two." With that Killian took her hand and pulled her out into the spring night, Arthur right behind. The three of them piled into the backseat of the cab, Arthur giving the driver the address for some club downtown. Emma leaned against Killian's shoulder, watching the city fly by as night settled and it lit up, while the boys chatted about the chances of Liverpool _soccer._

Boston was very different from Storybrooke, as expected, but Emma was almost surprised by how easily she had settled into it. There was something about the history and the roots that the city had. It felt permanent. When she'd first arrived, Emma hadn't been terribly homesick, but she'd felt terribly guilty at leaving Granny. But there had been something soothing about walking around downtown and staring up at all the old churches and meeting halls, knowing they'd been there for hundreds of years. They had a place there, even though they'd been new once. And maybe she could find her place too if she tried.

Emma felt like she'd found her place now, four years later. She loved the hustle and bustle of the city, the old winding streets, the funny accents, and where she fit in all of it. Her little shoebox apartment was full of pictures, soft carpets and a piano that was far too big for the space, an old one she'd found at a church sale and bribed the Jones boys to carry up her three floor walk up. They still hadn't forgiven her for that. She loved the old house the boys occupied and how that was just as much of a home as Emma's apartment, always busy and full of family. She loved the days she visited Marco's brick rowhouse, just a few streets from the studio, for a family dinner, sometimes alone, sometimes with all three Jones boys and Granny in tow. She loved the warmth and classical atmosphere of the ballet studio, and the rush of performing on stage again, knowing it was _her_ that allowed the dancers to dance as they did. Emma had become part of the tapestry of the company, breathing life into it through her music, and it had become a third home because of it, with more friends than she'd ever had built in from the dancers.

Four years and Emma had found a way to move beyond her upbringing, never quite fitting in in Storybrooke, and had found a place she unequivocally belonged.

It was a funny feeling.

The cab slowed and stopped outside a dark building with neon signs out front signifying it's place as _Camelot._ Emma scoffed but got out when Killian offered his hand, allowing him to pull her from the seat and onto the sidewalk. Arthur marched right up to the bouncer like he owned the place.

Knowing Arthur, maybe he did.

The bouncer listened to whatever he told him, before stepping aside. Arthur motioned for Killian and Emma to follow them. She glanced at Killian beside her, hand still in hers. Killian just gave a little shrug. Tonight was about dancing, not trying to figure out what side businesses Arthur did or did not participate in.

Killian lead her through the club door, into a darkened room where the bass reverberated loud enough to play with the beat of Emma's heart. There wasn't much of a crowd yet as it was only nine but Emma didn't mind. It made getting to the bar much easier at the very least. They all sidled up to the long bar, leaning against it, as a few already drunk couples bumped around them. A rum and coke was ordered for Emma and Killian, while Arthur requested a yagger bomb. While waiting for their drinks, Killian brought Emma's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She grinned back.

"You look ravishing, love." Killian handed her the newly arrived drink, clinking it with his own in a cheer as his eyebrow danced.

"You should look in the mirror then," Emma laughed in return, letting her free hand trail up the open neck of his button up, fingers brushing the chest hair that had come in the last few years. Which she was a big fan of.

It was fascinating for Emma to be close enough to someone that she knew when they changed, to watch their body and mind mature and know they were seeing the same thing in you that you were in them. Emma never thought she'd have that. But she did. And that made her blissfully happy. So happy that she downed her drink, grabbed said changing man by the collar and towed him out onto the dance floor.

When they'd reached the flashing light lit dance floor, Killian grabbed her hips and pulled her close with a little growl. A heady pop beat swirled around them, so far from what Emma usually filed her day with, capturing them both in it's net. They began to move together, Emma's arms around Killian's neck, his hand and stump hovering just over her ass, leg in between her own. Killian's eyes were bright with the warmth of a single glass of rum, neither being big drinkers in recognition of the Joneses start so one would get him going, and the atmosphere.

After a few songs of nearly indecent grinding- it being dark and them being twenty-two and all- Arthur appeared carrying a tray of shots, a woman with oddly dyed black and white hair beside him. Or rather hanging off him, not that Arthur seemed to mind.

"What is it?" Emma asked as she lifted the small glass off the tray, Killian following.

"Tequila!" the woman shouted, downing the shot as if it were water. Emma gave her a bland look, waiting for Arthur to confirm the contents of the glass. After a nod, Emma steeled herself and knocked it back, gasping at the burn. Killian snorted at her reaction, hand going back to her waist once he'd placed the shot glass back on the tray Arthur carried. Arthur set the tray on a table just off the floor before he was back, holding the mysterious woman as if he were going to try and absorb her, dancing.

But the music was too fast for grinding and the tequila was warm in Emma's belly, making her feel pleasantly weightless. She just wanted to _dance._ Not that what followed could be considered strictly dancing, but rather something similar to the jumping up and down one does when one has to pee, or when one has lost their parent in a supermarket and is trying to see over the aisles to locate them like a lost meercat. Emma never said she was graceful though, she just made the music for the graceful ones, and Killian seemed content to follow her lead, indulging her in grand ballroom like spins and waving arms, Arthur occasionally bringing over a drink for them, until they both were tired to keep up their shenanigans and contented to go back to the more sensual dancing that was taking over the club as the hour ran late.

Arthur disappeared sometime around eleven, though not with the woman who had been there originally, leaving Emma and Killian to their own devices, with a mutter of _kids_. Not that Arthur was more than four years older than them.

"You ready to leave, love?" Killian asked, lips sloppy against her ear, partially from drink and partially from exhaustion. Emma nodded. They had both worked all day, and while this seemed to be what Killian needed, she was beyond ready to flop onto her squishy mattress. Killian lead her to the coat check to get his jacket before pushing his way through the crowd at the door waiting to get in, Emma grasping the back of his shirt to follow along in his wake.

The air outside the club hit Emma like a slap in the face, nearly freezing after the humidity that had been the inside of Camelot. The tipsy feeling she'd had for the last few hours drained away as she pulled in a lungful of fresh air, shivering in her short-sleeved dress. Killian chuckled before laying his coat across her shoulders, enveloping her in the strong scent of aftershave that clung to the worn leather.

"Always have to be the gentleman," she muttered, trying to seem as she didn't need it, but buried further in the too-big coat despite herself.

"Always, love. You should know that by now," he answered as he flagged down a waiting cab, giving the driver the address to Emma's place. Emma smiled at that. Sometimes when they'd go out, Killian's guilt at being away would weigh too heavily on him and he'd back out of staying at her place at the last moment. But going to her place meant Killian was going to make a night of it, and her plan had been a success. Killian was allowing himself to be young.

In the backseat of the cab, Killian wrapped his arm around Emma, stumped arm rubbing up and down her own. That was another thing that she'd been able to watch change over the last four years, Killian growing comfortable with her so that he almost forgot there was no hand on his left side. Emma bent her arm so she could reach the stump and held it, fingers wrapped around the end, just as if she were holding his hand. Killian sighed and pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear.

"You two been together long?" the taxi driver asked, watching them with vague amusement.

"Four years last month," Killian answered with a small smile. "Best four years of my life."

The driver laughed at that. "Don't I know that. Been married to my own wife for fifty. But you must have been young?"

"I'm not sure we were ever young," Emma answered in an undertone, catching the driver's eye in the rear view mirror, and giving a small smile of understanding in return. Killian gave her shoulder a squeeze and Emma shook her head. No, she'd promised herself that this night would be about being young and carefree, not dwelling on abandonment, parents who were never parents and lives of abuse, both self inflicted and not.

"Well, don't let it go," the driver answered after a long moment of silence before pulling up in front of Emma's little apartment building.

"Don't plan to," Emma and Killian answered in unison. Emma gave a snort of near disgust at the adorableness, earning a playful answering shove from Killian as she opened the door to get out. The driver just grinned at the show of young love in his backseat, accepting payment from Killian before giving them a wave and driving off.

The two of them staggered up to her apartment, neither drunk enough for the stairs to constitute a problem, though Emma did end up kicking her shoes off after the first set. She'd gotten more use to wearing heels after a few years, but after dancing for several hours, she was done of them and really wishing her old chucks had gone with her little black dress.

Neither bothered to turn the lights to her apartment on after Killian used his key to let them in, instead staggering to her bedroom right away, exhaustion hitting them. Emma rarely got to see Killian use his key but damn if that wasn't a nice sight. It was right next to the old key for the Jones house and he used it with the same amount of ease. Anything Killian did with ease with his hand, whether it was handling something new, or completing a task made her grin because it showed that Killian had gotten used to it, made it ritual. But it was extra special to see him do it to the home they shared (most of the time).

"Did you have a good time?" Emma asked, yanking her dress over her head and letting it crumple to the floor.

Killian sighed at her messiness, grabbing it and throwing it in the laundry, before answering. "I did. Was I really so bad you needed to put up with a night with Arthur for me?"

Emma shrugged, even though he could barely see her in the dark. "We all just want you to be happy."

"I'm not _un_ happy."

Emma crossed the floor to where Killian stood, quiet and shadowed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she spoke, "But you could be happier. Maybe not tomorrow, I know you," she kissed his stubbled chin, "but if you let your life be more than just Liam squared, you could be happier. You're a big brother, not a father. Tonight was just trying to give you that." The shirt fell from Killian's broad shoulders and he caught in his hand while Emma moved to his belt, fingers lightly brushing the countless scars covering his chest as she moved down his body. It was rare he let her do this, take care of him this way, do something as simple as unbutton a shirt, so she did it slowly. "We're going to need to start a life together eventually, live together, have a shared bank account. Adult stuff. And I know that won't be soon, you're waiting, spending more time with Liam to make up for what you lost, but I just want to know you're working towards that. And I guess I just want to know that you're letting yourself work towards that, learn to be happy with the life you're making. With me. But also on your own." Emma pushed his jeans from his hips, laughing when they didn't fall to the floor because _damn skinny jeans._

Killian laughed too before kissing her forehead and stepping out of the pants. "I am, love. Someday we're going to have a _sedan_ and a KitchenAid or something equally adult-y and boring."

"Lee doesn't think a KitchenAid is boring."

Killian rolled his eyes at her sass, pressing a finger to her lips. "Emma, love, I didn't think love was in the cards for me. I didn't think there was anything more than surviving to the next morning. That I'd not graduate high school, let alone university. That anything beyond looking after Lee was for me. Until you came into my life. You showed me more was possible. So yes, maybe it's taking me too long, maybe I'm a brooding pirate, but someday we'll have that adult future. And I'll try harder to be a brother, not a father, and a good boyfriend."

"You are a good boyfriend."

"A happy one then. One that isn't constantly guilty for dating instead of babysitting."

Emma nodded, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bed. "That's all I ask."

"But I know how to be happier," he muttered, tackling her to the bed. Emma's laugh cut through the dark like moonlight.


End file.
